


Black lingerie is NOT my kink

by mybigfatcat



Series: GRi drabbles and oneshots for a rainy day [11]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Lingerie, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybigfatcat/pseuds/mybigfatcat
Summary: Seungri knows it’s a dream, he feels how reality is fuzzy and undefined at the edges, how his legs fuse with the dark matter of this black void.A short oneshot for a rainy day.





	Black lingerie is NOT my kink

**Author's Note:**

> Gang, this is all your fault.
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This is fiction and nothing but fiction. It is not meant for commercial purposes.

Seungri knows it’s a dream, he feels how reality is fuzzy and undefined at the edges, how his legs fuse with the dark matter of this black void. But what is not empty space is vivid, bright, and seductive. It’s as if he’s in a bubble of hyper reality, a single point in his vast subconscious where this scene is set. It’s a stage, and a performance created by a sudden explosion of creativity, and he’s in the middle of it.

The scene playing in front of him is as elicit as it is beautiful. He can feel shivers running down his spine, the hairs on his skin standing, even though it’s just a dream. Seungri is standing in an anonymous hotel room, and he’s watching Jiyong who’s standing by the windows with his back facing Seungri. Jiyong, practically naked, is wearing black lingerie and what Seungri guesses is a wig. Other than elicit and beautiful, this dream is also completely batshit crazy.

In the dream he can clearly tell that it’s Jiyong because all of his tattoos are there, and he’s seen his back enough times to instantly _know_.

But Seungri has no idea why he’s wearing black lace underwear, or why he’s wearing a black lace garter belt with black stockings. Seungri has no idea why any of these things exist, what part of his brain this mad creation has come from, but he does know that he desperately needs Jiyong to turn around.

He can’t move, not yet, so he calls out Jiyong’s name. It feels like an eternity later, but his friend finally turns, slowly, revealing his flat and firm chest, his smoky eyes, his-

Seungri quickly lifts his eyes from where they had landed on Jiyong’s crotch. He can’t help but to notice that Jiyong is as turned on as he is, even though Seungri doesn’t want to be turned on. He doesn’t want to feel blood rushing towards his erection at the ludicrous sight of Jiyong in a pink bob cut wig.

Then they’re both moving and Seungri has his hands on Jiyong’s hips, fingers digging into the muscle and bone, and their mouths meet.

“YES!” Seungri thinks as he feels Jiyong’s leg press against his throbbing cock, the friction making his body shake in bliss. He releases Jiyong’s hips in favor of his butt cheeks, and Jiyong moans into his mouth. His mouth where Jiyong is busy stroking every inch with his tongue, making their teeth clash in pure desperation.

Seungri, losing track of the limits of dream and reality, pushes Jiyong down on the hotel bed and climbs on top of him.

“Oh god!” he says with a moan when Jiyong palms his erection and strokes it through the fabric. He thrusts forward, chasing the friction, but suddenly there is none and he’s overwhelmed with frustration.

The friction is gone, he realizes, because he’s in his own bed, tangled in the sheets.

“Fuck,” he says to his bedroom ceiling and doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed.

No, he’s definitely relieved, he doesn’t know how he’d ever be able to look his hyung in the eyes again if the dream had gone further. He’s not sure how he’s gonna do it now either. The sweat on his skin is feeling cold and clammy, and the arousal deep in his belly feels more like nausea.

“I really should stop watching porn before I sleep,” he thinks and lets out a heavy sigh.

It takes what feels like an eternity for his semi hard on to soften and his heart rate to slow down, but he finally falls asleep again.

 

-

 

When he wakes up again later that morning he doesn’t remember the dream at first. He makes coffee, sits in his robe by his coffee table and reads a paper. Squints at the sunny Seoul outside his windows. He even halfway gets through his breakfast of kimbap and eggs before the dream sneaks into his memory. Then it’s suddenly there, right at the forefront of his conscious, as lewd and crazy as it’d been during the night. It almost makes him choke on a mouthful of kimbap.

“FUCK, SHIT, CRAP, HOLY MOTHER FUCKER, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, FUCK, !!?!”

 

-

 

Seungri has mostly managed to calm down by the time his manager comes to pick him up and drive him to the recording studio. At least he tells himself repeatedly that he needs to be calm, that the only way he’s going to get through being stuck in a recording studio with Jiyong is if he’s calm. So _he has to stay calm no matter what_.

Who even has dreams like this, he asks himself as he sits in the car, wiping at the sweat on his forehead. Seungri has been called many things, including disgusting pervert by people who have nothing else to do than to write hateful comments online, but he’s never ever felt this dirty before. It’s not as if Jiyong would be able to tell what he had dreamt just by looking a thim, this he knew, but it still felt like he’d committed some kind of crime. As of he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He had to admit that however weird and outlandish the dream had been, in essence he’d enjoyed it alot. ALOT alot.

Just the thought of how the black lace had contrasted with Jiyong’s tan skin, how his ass had looked in that lace g string... it makes his cock twitch a little.

Needless to say, when they finally arrived at the YG building he was flushed and endlessly grateful he was wearing a long-ish jacket.

The ride in the elevator from the parking lot, and the walk down an air-conditioned corridor, does calm him down some. But the first sight of Jiyong’s back as he sits by the mixing table with a sound engineer, makes Seungri freeze mid step.

“I’m so fucking screwed,” he thinks to himself as the dream from last night comes flashing back in full color. The image of dream Jiyong, and the real Jiyong, mix and blend in front of Seungri’s eyes as Jiyong turns in his chair to say hi.

Seungri feels as if he’s burning on a stake as Jiyong meets his eyes, a shock of electricity running through his body making his skin feel tight and much too small.

“Seungri-ah, come here and listen,” Jiyong says, and the image of dream Jiyong beckons him over with a hand gesture.

Seungri can do nothing but to burn and start walking to the mixing table, to stand next to Jiyong that looks up at him with his slightly tired but beautiful eyes. Yes, Seungri has to admit that they really are beautiful, smokey eye makeup or not.

“Your parts are these,” he says and points at purple blocks of lyrics on the laptop screen in front of them. Jiyong presses play, and the song plays in the studio speakers, Jiyong’s voice soft and alone in the guide recording of the verse and chorus.

Seungri can’t stop looking down at Jiyong, can’t stop himself from standing close, or from letting his hand rest where Jiyong’s neck meets his shoulder. The song is amazing, the lyrics are better than he’s heard from Jiyong before, and Jiyong’s eyes open widely as Seungri gently strokes the bare skin on Jiyong’s neck with a finger.

 

-

 

Okay, maybe the dream wasn’t as crazy as he’d thought, Seungri admits as he’s pressed into his bed five excruciating hours later by a growling and very much turned on Jiyong.

 

-


End file.
